


X Amount Of Words

by Calamity_Hero_Awakens



Series: Reverse Uno Card [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Chance Meetings, Dark Past, First Contact, First Meetings, Gen, I'm Honestly Not Sure What Else To Put For Tags, Implied/Referenced Violence, M/M, Master/Servant, Master/Sword, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Past Violence, Role Reversal, Sort Of, Switching it up, Tags Are Hard, What-if Scenario, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 10:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25349137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calamity_Hero_Awakens/pseuds/Calamity_Hero_Awakens
Summary: The sound of the Goddess’s chosen hero’s hard-soled boots against the stone flooring beneath his feet was the only sound as he entered the main room of the small temple-like structure. His footsteps echoed loudly, reverberating off the rounded walls and ceiling to fill the empty space that surrounded him.He wasn’t sure how he had missed it to begin with, but near the center of the room, sitting directly in the sunlight that poured in through the open windows, was the small, unmistakable shape of a person.
Relationships: Ghirahim/Link (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Reverse Uno Card [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843972
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	X Amount Of Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkAcey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAcey/gifts).



> A little something for one of my biggest supporters

The Surface was much different than Ghirahim had expected it to be. From the talk he had heard in Skyloft, the man had expected to see nothing but a wasteland swarming with monsters. When he had descended through the clouds on his red Loftwing, he had initially been surprised at the sheer expanse of it all, his second surprise being that the land was beautiful. Mountains, oceans, deserts, forests, everything one could imagine. It was all so beautiful; the rich hues that stained the land below reminded the hero of the sky as the sun began to set or rise, peaking through the clouds and casting shades of orange across the sky.

When the Loftwing had reached a fair distance from the ground, Ghirahim jumped, deploying his sailcloth and drifting down to the ground. As his feet met the hard earth, he felt a thrill of excitement. He was about to prove or disprove all of the things that had been speculated about the Surface.

With the heavy flap of wings somewhere above him retreating into the clouds, the hero began his exploration, wandering through the forest and climbing the occasional tree. As much as he despised his knight’s uniform, he was the smallest bit grateful that the colour allowed him to blend into his surroundings. The last thing he needed was for some monster to catch sight of him. While he had thought to bring his sword - it was much too light and Ghirahim feared it would break if he engaged in serious combat - he planned to avoid confrontation. He had heard tale of a special sword that had been forged for the hero long ago and assumed he would acquire it soon enough.

Jumping up, Ghirahim caught the lowest branch of the tree in front of him, swinging his leg up to grab ahold and mount the branch. From there, he made his way up, scraping his pale hands on the rough bark as he went. A minimal burn stung his muscles as he climbed higher, but it reminded him of all the training he had done in preparation for his time on the Surface, and he found that the feeling didn’t bother him.

As the branches began to grow thinner and less trustworthy, Ghirahim decided to rest on the branch he was on, staring off at the other trees he could see in the distance. It seemed like the forest went on for miles, an endless stretch of countless shades of green with the sun peeking behind them as it continued to rise.

Stretching out on the limb to stand, the hero’s boot suddenly slipped, causing him to lose his balance. His arms shot out to grab the limb above him as he fell from his spot, effectively snapping the branch and tumbling to the ground with a shout. His body made impact with several thick limbs before he slammed into the ground; with a groan, Ghirahim pushed himself up to sit, his body already aching and sore. Come tomorrow morning, he was sure he would feel even more sore, but a red potion would help with the pain.

Reaching for the pouch attached to his belt, Ghirahim realized that the triforce mark on the back of his right hand was glowing softly, the yellow triangle beginning to grow warm. Fascinated brown eyes stared at the mark, trying to figure out what it meant. He had always had the mark, but it had never lit up before. Perhaps the Surface was full of surprises.

With some effort, the chosen hero was on his feet again, grumbling to himself as he began to traverse the forest once more. As he began to head north, the mark began to glow brighter, pulsing with light to the rhythm of his heartbeat. That was definitely odd. Perhaps it was… trying to show him something? Was it a compass of some sort?

Hand outstretched in front of him, Ghirahim allowed it to lead the way, trudging forward when it glowed brighter and retracing his steps when the light dimmed. Through the thick forest of Faron Woods, the hero journeyed farther until he was met with an ornate stone wall. It reminded him of the illustrations of temples he had seen in the history books during his studies in Skyloft, but no illustration could ever compare to the actual thing. The large cracks in the wall suggested that it had been there much longer than the forest itself (as if the moss and plant life growing over top of it wasn’t the first clue).

Approaching the wall, Ghirahim realized that the Goddess’ crest was carved into the thick stone, smaller designs surrounding it. One carving in particular stood out to the hero and he drew closer so that he could push the curtain of ivy away to gain a better look. Above his head etched into the stone wall was the shape of a sword, a beautiful looking one at that. Without colour, it was difficult to make out some of the features of the carving, but it was alluring nonetheless. That singular image had the hero inspecting the wall more thoroughly, searching for some kind of hidden passage or entrance to something more. He had been told of a sword designed for him and him alone, so perhaps it had been hidden in the forest.

Running his glowing hand along the moss and ivy covered wall, Ghirahim eventually felt a substantial dip in the surface. Pushing the plant life out of the way as best he could, the man realized there was a door that spanned the length of the wall, top to bottom. There was no handle or knob and the thing simply looked remarkably heavy, but never one to back down from a challenge, Ghirahim leaned all of his weight against his hands as he pushed at the door. It slid open a fraction with a harsh scrape to the stone beneath it on the inside but then became stuck. With a huff of irritation, the chosen hero mumbled a profanity before harshly throwing his side against the stone surface. The residual pain in his body caused him to wince but he repeated the action again and again until the massive stone slab had opened enough for him to squeeze his body through.

Past the door, Ghirahim was surprised to find that the spacious interior of the temple - if it could be called that - was brightly lit. No lanterns or flames were present, but at the end of the main hall was a large room, several rectangular shapes cut out along the top of the room. The hero’s gaze flickered around the hall as he approached the singular large room. There were no other doors, but none were needed; the room was ornate enough without them. Carvings and words Ghirahim didn’t recognize were etched into the stone surfaces that surrounded him. Unlike the ones outside, these sported many colours; over time, some of the colours had faded and appeared worn, but most of the images - especially those along the domed ceiling in the main room - were still vibrant.

The sound of Ghirahim’s hard-soled boots against the stone flooring beneath his feet was the only sound as he entered the main room. His footsteps echoed loudly, reverberating off the rounded walls and ceiling to fill the empty space that surrounded him.

The hero wasn’t sure how he had missed it to begin with, but near the center of the room, sitting directly in the sunlight that poured in through the open windows, was the small, unmistakable shape of a person. What would a person be doing in here? Had they fallen in through the windows and couldn’t get out? A small sigh passed over Ghirahim’s painted lips as he began to approach the person. After all, this was the sort of task that came with the title of “hero”.

“Are you alright?” Ghirahim called out as he drew closer to the person. From behind, the hero couldn’t tell if the person was male or female. Their small frame suggested female, but that meant nothing.

A long pointed ear twitched as the sound of footsteps grew closer and the person’s head turned to finally see Ghirahim over their shoulder. Blue eyes glimpsed the form of a person dressed in green before turning back to face the wall.

The silence had Ghirahim on edge, but the aura that filled the room had him more wary than before. The empty space of the room seemed claustrophobic with how much sadness radiated from the person, waves of it seeming to pass over and through the hero.

Drawing his weak sword, Ghirahim drew a few steps closer, rounding the person as he pointed the blade at them. Standing before them, the man realized that they posed no threat. How could they, with their limbs chained down? Thick, heavy chains were wrapped around all four of the person’s limbs, chaining them to the floor and allowing little leeway. Beneath the chains was the crossed pattern of cream and blue skin, small diamond shapes appearing at random intervals along their skin. While the person - they seemed to be a man, Ghirahim concluded - wore no clothing, it seemed unnecessary. Whatever form or being this person was in required no clothing.

Sheathing his sword, Ghirahim reached for one of the chains that was wound tightly around the man’s arm, the man pulling away immediately. He didn’t get far, considering there was very little slack in the heavy chains, but the hero could see the fear in his eyes.

“Hold still,” he commanded as he reached for the chain again. The triforce on the back of his hand was glowing brighter than ever before and as soon as his hand made contact with the first chain, all of them fell to the floor with a loud, echoing clang, releasing their prisoner. Ghirahim watched as the man sat in silence, his blue eyes staring intently up at the hero. If he hadn’t moved before, Ghirahim could have easily mistaken him as dead. His chest was perfectly still as he sat in place, not even breathing. Did he need to breathe in the first place?

Squatting down in front of the man, the chosen hero said, “My name is Ghirahim.”

The blue eyes stared back at him blankly before the man pointed to the pile of chains between them.

“Chains?” Ghirahim asked in confusion, receiving a small shake of the head. Keeping his eyes firmly locked on the hero, the man leaned forward and grabbed one of the chains, holding firmly to a single section of it and waiting for the other to understand.

“Chain link?” Ghirahim suggested; this time, the man tilted his head to the side slightly. He was close.

“Link?”

A tiny nod was all he received.

“That’s your name?”

Another nod. Baby steps, Ghirahim realized.

“Alright, Link. Why are you here?”

Link curled in on himself, the fear and self loathing evident on his face as he hugged his knees closer to his chest. His hand lifted to press his fingers against his lips and then lowered, but Ghirahim didn’t understand and the confusion was written all over his face. Trying again, Link gently slapped the back of one of his hands, something Ghirahim easily understood this time.

“You did something bad?”

Resting his chin on his knees, Link nodded, his eyes glancing around the room in an attempt to avoid the hero.

A moment of silence passed as Ghirahim stared him down before replying, “I don’t believe you.”

Link’s blue eyes were alarmed as they stared directly into Ghirahim’s brown ones. He didn’t believe him? How could he not?

Something suddenly caught Ghirahim’s attention and he reached forward to grab Link’s chin. The man panicked and pulled away, thrashing his legs out to kick the other away from him but Ghirahim was determined. He followed right after Link as said man toppled backward, laying sprawled on his back on the stone floor.

“Hold still,” Ghirahim commanded, straddling the man’s thighs and reaching for his face again. Link pushed him away, nearly pounding on his chest to make him get off but Ghirahim simply ignored him. Reaching up again, the hero held Link’s chin with one hand, tilting his head back to get a good look at his neck. A thick scar that spanned from nearly ear to ear was sunken into the skin of his neck, obvious despite the cream and pale blue skin that attempted to keep it from view.

“What happened?” the hero asked, running a finger over the scar. Though Link made no notion that it hurt, he still jerked away from the contact once more. Ghirahim sighed. How was he supposed to calm Link down? He supposed he could figure something out and take him back to Skyloft where he would be safe.

“I can help you,” the chosen hero offered, removing his hands from Link though he continued to hold him down by sitting on his thighs. The Hylian-esque man’s ears twitched and a small, timid chime rang out in the quiet temple.

“Was that you?” Ghirahim asked in amazement. He’d never heard a human make such a noise. Link’s ears drooped as if he had been chastised and he looked away.

“Can you speak?” Ghirahim tried. Link timidly looked up at him before shaking his head and chiming again.

“But you can… make… whatever that noise is.”

Link chimed again.

“I suppose that scar has something to do with your ‘being bad’?” Ghirahim inquired. Link averted his gaze but nodded, an almost sad sounding chime filling the air.

The hero sighed again. “I can take you somewhere else if you’d like. Somewhere safe.”

The man’s head jerked up and his bright blue eyes stared intensely at Ghirahim.

“Would you like that?”

A silent war seemed to wage behind those bright eyes and it was several moments before Link pointed to the sword that was on Ghirahim’s back.

The hero glanced back at the object before saying, “I won’t hurt you.”

Link shook his head and pointed to the object again before pointing to himself.

“You want one as well?” the chosen Hylian tried again.

Link shook his head again before repeating the action.

“You… Have-?”

Link huffed, leaning forward to tap the blade before pointing to his chest, trying to make Ghirahim understand.

“You… Are…?”

Link nodded his head this time and Ghirahim finished the thought.

“You are a sword?”

Link nodded again. Well, that sort of explained why he looked so different, but it also created more questions than it really answered.

Returning to the original question, Ghirahim asked, “Would you like to leave this place?”

Link nodded before hesitantly reaching forward, taking the hero’s hand in his. The Hylian remained still, watching as the sword spirit set his hand over the jutting blue diamond on the center of Link’s own chest. A quiet noise - half sigh, half squeak - left Link’s mouth at the contact before the shiny gem began to glow brightly, much like the back of Ghirahim’s hand had done. Speaking of which, the triangle continued to glow as it rested over the pulsing blue of Link’s chest, the two shapes between the two men pulsing together in the same rhythm.

Suddenly, Link’s eyes closed and his hand shook as it held Ghirahim’s against his chest. In a sudden flash of light and various coloured diamonds - mostly blue, though there were also white, black, and green - the sword spirit shifted forms, changing into the shape of a thin but sturdy blade. It looked much more trustworthy than Ghirahim’s current blade and he found himself wanting to go ahead and discard the useless weapon on his back.

Before it could hit the ground, Ghirahim caught the sword’s handle, lifting it with both hands to admire it. The silver blade was perfectly reflective, reminding the hero of a polished mirror. A blue diamond like the one on Link’s chest rested near the hilt and the hilt itself was a spiral of light green and white, flaring out gently to each side and tapering off in such a way that reminded Ghirahim of vines.

As he stood admiring the blade, a voice quietly spoke in his mind as the gentle sound of chimes filled the air, and just like that, Ghirahim knew he had found his blade.

“Thank you, master.”

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine if Ghirahim had been created by Hylia and was supposed to be Link’s sword but he had been corrupted and consequently cast away to the darkness and so Fi had been created to take his place. Or, alternatively, Ghirahim was Ravio’s sword, considering Ravio was supposed to be the hero of Lorule.
> 
> Anyway, part 2?


End file.
